


Before we met

by atrimea



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Backstory, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrimea/pseuds/atrimea
Summary: A lil back story on Viktor before he meets his pork cutlet bowl and then what happens after.Its a lil traumatizing tbh so..





	

Viktor touched his hair, snow softly seeping into his scalp, and walked. The wind howled, seemingly inappropriate to his moods.

He was sad, he didn't want the wind to howl, he wanted the air to go still, so much that the oxygen going into his lungs would cease to move.

He was running, as all skaters must - "Viktor!, Viktor!, Viktor!". He heard the crowd chanting his name, heard himself falling, heard everything fall apart. If he'd keep falling like he did in practice, he'd never make it.

Viktor, the skater with too much potential to make anything out of.

He let those thoughts lead his way, running into an alley, a moment he would forever relive. 

He stopped and turned around when he saw them, four, no, five, drunk.  
One of them was bleeding down his arm, lying on the dirty floor. The other four looked at the young boy with his long hair and expensive shoes, who felt nothing in a moment of pure panic.   
He had wanted to arrive at exactly this a few moments ago, chaos for all the jumps he didn't land, every the disappointed face of his coach, he deserved this.

He turned around, to run back, away, anywhere, his heart raced with every breath. He took three steps, and felt a glass bottle break against his spine, raining down on his thin, thin jacket.

He didn't look back as another one came rushing to collide with the bones inside of his shoulder, his vision blurred, but his ears caught the words "fag" and "girl" and "fuck" 

He felt the pavement come up to meet his face. How had he gotten here. What happened. His skating career would be over. Nothing would matter anymore. His eyes betrayed him, drops of fear falling on concrete. 

The man on top of him would not let him go, and soon there were more. he felt tired in a way he never had before, sweat and tears and screams melting into a horror so terrible that he'd never be able to open his mouth to tell anyone.

They unzipped his sports jacket, pulled out his wallet. Hands on him, like rough glass. "Wouldn't hurt a girl" one of them said, in a mocking, mocking tone. Nightmare. Thought Viktor, but real. His brain had ceased to exist under the pain. He could hear the wind howling still. 

They pulled at his hair, he saw blurry faces above him. The smell of alcohol rushed into him, making him want to scream, and he did, which only made them do it more. He had never been touched, before, and he shut his hot, wet eyes, as his skin, new land, was burnt down and destroyed, not explored. No adventurer would ever touch him again. He'd never let anyone come close. 

The tug to his shorts was made, and four men watched him, half naked and alone. Was this the power in destroying a man? 

A sharp sound burst into his vision.

The tug stopped midway, his hands and legs were let go of, and he opened his eyes to see heads turned around. He heard one of them scream and raise his hand to his wet,red,head. 

They ran away, chasing the man who had thrown the bottle, while he stayed there, frozen, for what felt like years.  
At any moment they might come back, but he couldn't move. Something was wrong. So much was wrong.

Finally, he put on his clothes, took back his wallet, wiped off his tears -walked, stumbled, home.

And let himself in bed.

On his Seventeenth birthday, he nailed every jump in the practice, hair colored blue and pink, and then he went home, undid his side braid, touched his hair, his beautiful, beautiful, hair whispers of 'wouldn't hurt a girl' 'fag' 'girl' all danced around inside of his head.

On his seventeenth birthday, he took a pair of pink scissors and sent them swimming through his hair. 

No one would talk about it anymore.  
It was over.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or something jf u want me to continue tbh im lazy


End file.
